Vladimir's 'new' Flatmate
by DrFrankenburger
Summary: Vladimir the Splatter finds himself sharing digs with an unexpected companion. Rated T for brief violence.


_Disclaimer: The Discworld, its characters, locations and institutions are the property of the late Sir Terry Pratchett and his heirs. This story is for entertainment only and I claim no commercial interest in it._

**Vladimir's 'new' Flatmate.**

_How Vladimir the Yennork acquired a companion at his digs, as told to a junior reporter at the Ankh – Morpork Times._

I'd better make it clear who I am. I'm Vladimir the Yennork, also known as Vladimir the Splatter, Vladimir the Accident – Prone and probably, to my boss, Igor, Vladimir the Bloody Nuisance.

Last time I went out with the Hunt, I banged my head in a fall on the first night. Looking for some head protection the following day I made a cursory visit to a shop on Heroes Street that deals in second – hand **(1)** armour. Probably too cursory a visit, but the old helmet I bought was cheap and that's what I wanted.

The following night's hunting brought on the distraction. Although the catch was satisfactory, even other weres noticed the almost-voice coming from my new piece of kit. I definitely noticed it as it was right in my ears. I may not be able to Transform, but full moon brings a certain sharpening of the senses (and its approach brings PLT) but even I couldn't make out the words.

Following advice from a fellow hunter, I tried to look into the helmet's history with the shop's owner, who all but threw me out (and that takes some doing as he's Human) with a strange phrase about somebody not being welcome back, who had been critical of the shop's merchandise.

Further advice from a colleague in the Hunt indicated the item could be haunted, and consulting with Mrs Cake was mentioned. Now there's a formidable lady that even the Posties are still wary of, and I felt that bothering her with something that seemed little more than a nuisance would not be appropriate.

So I went to see Dr Goatly, recently qualified as a post – mortem communicator. As luck would have it, he was taking a little time to establish himself in private practice, and I figured his fees would be modest. That found me making my way towards the grotty little office he was renting in the Shades.

I'd forgotten that the denizens of that district aren't always wise in their choice of enrichment opportunities. As I turned into the dead - end alley that housed the wizard's office I became aware of a big shadow looming over me and a smell compounded of fear, excitement, and a lot of dirt.

'Gimme that bit of kit an' you might not get 'urt mister !'

Instinct took over. I turned, swiftly, baring my teeth, balling my fists, and sprang for the fellow's throat.

That probably wasn't a good idea. I noticed his shortsword too late.

When I came to, which can't have been much later, I heard voices engaged in conversation, but they were strange sounding, even by the standards of the Big Wahoonie.

'I'M TELLING YOU, YOU CAN'T COME WITH ME. YOU STILL HAVE BUSINESS HERE.'

'I've been chucked out of my digs, and look at him. Impulsive, and now he gets to go with you !'

The second voice had spoken Morporkian, but with a strange accent.

'ACTUALLY HE DOESN'T. NOT THIS TIME. THERE WAS NO SILVER INVOLVED.'

'Things must have gone downhill in this city, letting a _lupinotuum pectinem _**(2) **walk freely !'

'I'll take it from here if you please gentlemen.'

By now I had my eyes open again, and there were three figures in front of me. The one who'd just spoken was a black - robed wizard, most likely the man I'd come to see. There was also a smell of sulphur in the air. He was holding the reason I'd sought him out.

Another of the figures was also recognizable from the cowled robe and the scythe. I'd seen him before, usually remonstrating with me for carelessness and adding to his workload. From the accidents I've suffered.

'WELL VLADIMIR, GETTING STABBED THROUGH THE HEART IS NEW ONE, EVEN FOR YOU. DR GOATLY APPEARS TO HAVE DRIVEN OFF YOUR ATTACKER, BUT THE FIREBALL MISSED, SO I HAVE NO FURTHER BUSINESS HERE. I WILL TAKE MY LEAVE NOW.'

The figure began to fade into insubstantiality.

'But, I...'

'NO, I'VE ALREADY SAID YOU CAN'T JOIN ME. NOT THIS TIME.'

I took a good look at the one speaker I hadn't fully checked out yet. Well that explained his odd conversation with death. He just _had_ to be a ghost.

'Dr Goatly I presume, I'm Vladimir.'

The wizard looked down.

'You are getting dirty down there, it would help us introduce ourselves properly and do business if you would get up.'

I did, and tried to get a better grip on what was going on.

'Who's the ghost in the historical re – enactor costume ?'

'I am here you know, and this was my working rig !'

'You were a _gladiator _?'

'Julianus the Slayer, many times champion in the arena.' **(3)**

'Shall we take this into my office, we seem to be attracting some interesting people. Given we are a wizard, a ghost and a yennork not much could harm us, but dealing with those who would try can be irksome.'

Well that explained where I'd seen the pattern of armour before. On visits to museums. We went into the wizard's office.

'What did you call me ?' I wasn't ready to be too friendly with someone who'd called me by a name I didn't understand, but who'd pronounced it as though it were a dirty word.

Dr Goatly interjected.

'It means 'werewolf' and I guess Latatians weren't familiar with yennorks. I assume that's what you are, there were plenty of clues. What Death said about silver, your resurrection trick (try not to get blood on the furniture by the way) and you are certainly no orc. I don't think you are any kind of messianic holy man either. I saw you spring at that unlicensed thief and they tend not to do that.'

When I started out I'd thought I'd had nothing more than a bit of an equipment glitch which perhaps a quick exorcism might sort out, but this ghost had nowhere to go. I asked what was going on, pointing out that I wasn't a rich man.

'I'm thinking of returning to the old _alma pater, _Classics always rather appealed, perhaps you and Julianus can help me there. If you do I'll waive any fee.'

'So how can we be of any use to a wizard, and how do you know we'll even work together ?'

'Let's just say an idea is forming. But first we need to build a case history. Julianus, as your problem has existed longest, we'll start with your story. I'm assuming you didn't die in the arena ?'

Julianus looked embarrassed and muttered something that sounded like 'training accident.' Dr Goatly pressed him for more detail.

'I slipped on dog muck and landed on my own sword point ! Now are you satisfied !'

'You say you've been chucked out of your digs, but you were not exorcised ?'

'Of course not. And it's happened more than once ! I thought we ghosts were tied to specific haunting grounds. I've used all these years to learn things, it's also why I can speak your barbarous tongue !'

I ducked, expecting some magical unpleasantness to fly, but the wizard calmly brushed off the insult.

'I was getting to that. Some ghosts haunt objects rather than places, and you seem to be haunting your old work helmet. Your knowledge of languages, as it happens, is what would be of use to me. Classical Latatian, the language of government, is well recorded. The Guild of Lawyers still use it. Vulgar Latatian, that is, the more informal language of the common people is much less well known, though museums and ruins hold much untranslated graffiti. We could certainly put one over on the Guild of Historians with your assistance.'

'That's all very well, but where do I come into all this.'

'Vladimir, I think I've worked out Julianus' unfinished business. I can tell you are going to some effort containing your temper, I saw how you reacted to an attempted mugging, and you were hasty enough to buy a haunted helmet. You are almost certainly his gateway to the afterlife. He has to prevent you coming to silvery grief that would otherwise arise through impulsiveness or a clumsy accident. You have established a link, I believe. Go home, and contact me in the morning. Try to come here without the helmet. In the meanwhile Julianus I think you'll have to share Vladimir's digs.

And so I gained a flatmate at that point. Julianus wasn't very happy about it so that was also the day when I learned some very vulgar Latatian indeed.

'

(1) It's antique stuff guv, honest !'

(2) Latin for Latatian.

(3) I guess the helm was not so much an antique item as an antiquity.


End file.
